


Way to Sainthood

by victorianvirgil



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Logan Sanders - Freeform, M/M, Roman Sanders - Freeform, Sanders Sides - Freeform, Thank You Next, Virgil Sanders - Freeform, also you’re not going to hell for being gay, i mean i’m def going to hell for something else but it ain’t for being gay, logan is a priest, no he is not an alter boy, no this is not logince, roman is confessing his sins, virgil’s appearance is lowkey HELLA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:44:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17546390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorianvirgil/pseuds/victorianvirgil
Summary: Logan considered himself rather liberal compared to the seemingly infinite number of priests throughout the world preaching hate and praising those who who smothered love. And he is tested on one stormy night after a long day of confessionals, he finds himself alone in the Church until Roman joins him, asking for one last confession of the day.





	Way to Sainthood

**Author's Note:**

> hey, so idk if this needs warnings? a small explanation tho.
> 
> this story is told through Logan’s point of view, he is a priest. Roman is a devotedly religious teenager (and views Logan as a trusted adult he can talk to, like a dad kind of) and confesses his “sins” (from the standards of the catholic church). being gay is not a sin, it is normal and beautiful.
> 
> love you all, stay gay and amazing!

Logan’s footsteps were gentle as they fell upon the wooden altar, the sound smothered by the recordings of the organ echoing against the walls. He had composed and recorded them himself years ago, the songs performed until they were flawless and so listeners could quite literally have a religious experience while listening to them. And yet, on one of the darkest nights of the year as rain struck the Church’s roof like daggers from the Heavens, not a single soul was there to hear his work. He didn’t mind having the Church to himself, preferring to pray without his brothers and sisters coughing or young children screaming bloody murder when he lifted the body of their savior. He thanked God for the peace, for Him to allow the Church to be his sanctuary.

He was adorned in black - a priest’s attire, as expected of him at all times - and had his hands folded in front of him, forearms pressed to the front of the pew as he bowed his head in prayer. He had spent hours sitting in a back room listening to confessions, everything from children lying to their parents to teenage boys masturbating to a woman who had keyed her ex’s car. He had long since mastered schooling his features, and frankly, he cared rather little about the sins they committed; it was none of his business, after all. They were all human and therefore, sinners, and he would never think himself better than them despite what many believed.

He rose after begging the Lord to forgive all those who had confessed that day, rising and the bottom of his cassock swaying as he knelt after exiting the pew, crossing himself before Christ. When he rose to his full height once more, a throat cleared from behind him.

“Father?”

Logan turned, gaze falling upon the youth standing in the doorway at the back of the Church. He pulled off his scarf and unzipped his jacket as he took a step forward into the light.

“Roman,” Logan said upon recognizing the teen, offering him a small smile, “what can I do for you at this hour, son?”

Roman stayed where he was, fingers brushing over the scarf in his hand as he kept his gaze lowered. Logan took initiative, approaching him slowly. He stopped a comfortable distance away, expression as welcoming and inviting as he strived for the Church to be, but he knew there was something wrong. Logan was intuitive enough to realize that, and he wanted the other to feel comfortable enough to talk to him.

He had come to him before all those nights ago, after all, sobbing into his shoulder while decidedly hiding his bruised and bloodied face.

He had never told him why, but Logan had known better than to ask whether it had been his father or his classmates, both just as likely as the other.

“I . . .” he began, one hand moving to rub the back of his neck, “are confessions still going on? I need to confess, I mean.”

Logan nodded, then clarifying because the other hadn’t seen the movement, “The Church is always open for you, son, keep that in mind.”

Roman looked up as Logan beckoned him to the back room. Normally on confession days, people would be lucky to only have to wait half an hour, but seeing as men and women had long since tucked their children into bed and were presumably in the process of tucking themselves in, they walked straight inside.

Logan sat in a chair, Roman pausing as he studied the wooden confessional, a wall with intricate designs carved along it. He considered sitting behind it, hiding his face while confessing, but Logan already knew it was him so in Roman’s mind, there was no point. After releasing a deep breath, he rounded it and sat before him.

The priest offered him a comforting smile, while motioning for him to begin.

“You know the Act of Contrition, son?” he asked, knowing the answer. Roman had went to confession a few days before, a weekly tradition he had with his family.

Although Logan would remain impartial, he couldn’t help but ponder as to what the other had done that was so terrible he felt the need to repent immediately.

“Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee,” he began, the words becoming more and more choked as he continued. His gaze remained Hellbound and Logan noticed the tears that flooded his eyes, his fluttering eyelids doing little to bend the waves sure to come.

“What is it you are sorry for, my son?” he prompted, not sure whether to prepare himself for a droning on of small sins or the declaration of murder.

Roman’s throat bobbed, clutching the pamphlet he had grabbed that listed sins and where they fit under the Ten Commandments. His fingers brushed over the Sixth Commandment and it took all of Logan’s willpower not to stiffen.

“I am lost,” he whispered, figuring it easier to explain rather than to state it all in simple terms, “God’s light is far from sight and my world has been flooded into darkness.”

He had been preparing these words, speaking as if he were a poet. Logan remained silent, letting Roman continue, hardly surprised when the words came out far less beautifully afterwards.

“And . . . I broke the law, Father. I was invited to a party and - well, I drank. There was . . . there were other drugs but I-I only drank.”

Logan nodded, taking the lengthy pause as his cue to speak. He opened his mouth but the other continued, “And I was . . . my gosh, I was so drunk. I was with my friends dancing and then . . . my God I can’t even say it.”

He was choking on his tears, clutching the scarf between his hands and rubbing the thumb of his right hand over the smooth material. His left foot was tapping as if it instead belonged to a rabbit, and Roman seemed oblivious to all of his actions. Logan noted them though, inferring where the story was going.

“There were . . . the host invited these kids from another school in the town over,” he managed after a minute, chest heaving as if he were on the verge of an attack. Logan remained in his seat, worried but allowing him to finish.

“And there was this guy,” Roman whispered, a cruel smile spreading across his lips, laughter escaping then. He looked as if he were possessed by a demon, a comparison that Logan did not make lightly. He was tempted to flash the crucifix that hung from a golden chain around his neck, but refrained.

He looked up, the tears streaming down his face as he gave Logan a crazed smile, “Father, he fucked me.”

Logan didn’t flinch, not from the meaning behind his words, nor the slur parting the subject and the object. Grammatically and - based on Logan’s interpretation - literally, Roman was the object.

“I’m going to Hell,” he said, shaking his head and laughing, meeting Logan’s eye. It was only then did he notice the redness in them, the twin orbs bloodshot and glazed over.

He was still drunk, most likely having driven to the Church after the deed was done.

“And the thing is Father,” he continued laughing, body trembling as he leaned back in his chair, “his name is Virgil. Like Daunte’s  _ Inferno _ . The man that showed him the levels of hell.”

It wasn’t a laughing matter, not to either of them, but Roman couldn’t stop his hysterical nature if he tried.

“Son,” Logan interjected, Roman freezing and preparing himself for his words. “I think it would be best for us to break down your sins, separate tonight into what it really was, and I’ll help you understand.”

Roman nodded, swallowing and continuing to rub his thumb over his scarf anxiously as he looked away.

“You went to a party and drank,” Logan began, expression neutral and eyes hopefully filled with forgiveness. It was what the other needed to see, and in Logan’s mind, what he deserved. “You drank and then had sexual relations with a boy because you were intoxicated.”

“I . . . I am not blaming my actions on the drinks,” he mumbled, “my sins are my own, but Father, I was attracted to him. I . . . I think I suffer from frequent homosexual thoughts.”

Logan considered, licking his bottom lip as he said, “Son, there is nothing wrong with you.”

Roman met his eyes at the comment, seeing the sympathy and forgiveness present. It made him stop shaking, all his anxious twitches ceasing as his body focused on the priest.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he repeated, “you are a human, and like the rest of us, a sinner. I will not condemn you for your sexuality, although as a priest, I must preach abstinence to even your straight peers. However, the sexual encounter you had did not tarnish you nor did it damn you to hell. You are a man, and like the rest of us, a sinner. Sand after this confession, you will be clean of your sins.

“You have done a brave thing today, my child. I would like you to say two Hail Marys and an Our Father for your penance, but only for the drinking. And then I will take you home, seeing as you are in no condition to drive.”

Roman just stared at him, surprise settled across his features and remaining as they finished the session, both rising and heading back into the Church. Roman found a pew in the back masked in darkness to pray, and Logan waited by the door as the other prayed the length of nearly five Our Fathers. Doing more than what was required, certainly, begging for forgiveness already granted to him.

He glanced back at Logan when he was finished, pulling his scarf back on before joining him at the door.

“Thank you.”

Logan glanced at him, shaking his head, “There is no need, Roman. Any man that tells you that you will rot in Hell is a hypocrite and oblivious to their own sins. There is nothing wrong with you, and frankly, if this man is religious and worships God the way you do, I see nothing wrong with the match.”

Roman laughed, running his fingers through his hair after dipping his fingers into the holy water and crossing himself, “He might just be the Devil, Father, you should see that smile of his.”

Not something he should be discussing with his priest, he realized, but Logan only hummed in acknowledgement.

“Then find a good one, better than him. A man worthy of you.”

But when they stepped outside, Logan was surprised to see the engine of Roman’s car on and a figure sitting in the driver’s seat. The wipers were on and the man, one Logan had never seen before, was looking boredly out the windshield.

“I did,” Roman whispered, offering Logan a half smile before ducking out from the coverage of the Church and rounding the car to slide into the passenger’s seat.

Through the rain, Logan was unable to tell if a kiss was exchanged before the car sped off into the night, but he winced regardless, hoping that a boy on his way to sainthood wouldn’t be corrupted by the Devil Himself.

With a sigh, he went back into the Church to pray some more, the recording of his song sounding insincere to his ears then. He hoped his prayers for Roman would not be considered as such to the Lord, that His plan for him would be good and full of joy. That this Virgil boy wouldn’t drag him into Hell.

He felt as though he couldn’t pray enough.

**Author's Note:**

> hey again!
> 
> so, I came up with this idea a few weeks ago when mac came to church with me (I dragged her along, really). I wrote it in one sitting afterwards but figured I’d save it until I feel like it’s been too long since we last posted. it’s short but fun and rather emotional (I had a very similar experience a few years ago when I told my priest I had “kissed a girl or two” - because calling myself a lesbian was taboo). many priests are not supportive and if you are a Christian (or rather, a person of any religion) that feels unsupported by your religious brothers and sisters, know that you are valid and loved.
> 
> when I told my priest I had “kissed a girl”, I broke down and visibly shook as he basically told me I was going to hell. when I got home, I looked out onto my childhood swingset and saw fireflies dancing there in my line of sight. it isn’t something I can really explain but a sense of calmness washed over me and I knew that He didn’t hate me, that I was loved and accepted and not going to hell. so that just proves that whatever entity (or entities) you believe in (if any) is/are looking down on you with pride and love.
> 
> this was a very personal piece for me to write and i’m really glad to have shared it with you all.
> 
> stay tuned for more things to come, love you lots  
> -ronnie <3


End file.
